In management books, layoffs are described as an unfortunate but sometimes necessary instrument for safeguarding a company’s future.
At Listeds, we started looking into this topic because many leaders told us they felt left out of the conversation: media stories tend to focus on those who lose their jobs (as the stories should), but rarely on the moral and emotional strain on the person delivering the news.
We conducted an online survey for leaders on LinkedIn and through our newsletter. Fifty business leaders and management team members answered our question about how it actually felt to conduct layoffs. The vocabulary we were used to changed. Out went “rightsizing”, in came “lonely,” “sad,” and “numb.” Someone said, it felt “like I had betrayed my team,” while another one delivered the cruelest job description of all: [I was] “made to be the human buffer between a corporation and grieving, vulnerable employees.”
Our dataset of 50 responses offers a rare peek into that other side. The responses came mostly from Finland, and the respondents were largely CEOs and management team members in SMEs, listed firms, and growth companies.
The results reveal three points.
It’s never just business. Leaders don’t experience layoffs as a clean business decision. Even when they believed the move was necessary to save the company, they still reported feelings of shame, guilt, or sadness.
The pain extends beyond the moment. The pain did not stop at delivering the news to the one who was about to leave. Instead, the most painful part was carrying the consequences for everyone else. Many agonized over the people who stay.
Humanity helps. What got them through was trusting the process – and leaning on transparency and small, human gestures, not PowerPoint presentations polished to perfection.
This chimes with Western and Nordic research. Recent research supports that instinct. A 2025 Norwegian study by Grønstad and Bernstrøm found that when organizations downsize, short-term sickness absence rises among those who remain. The effect was partly explained by reduced organizational commitment — a reminder that how people feel after a layoff shapes their health and engagement.
Scandinavian work on “relational leadership” has likewise found that leaders in high-trust cultures experience layoffs as a kind of norm violation: after spending years building psychological safety, now they are forced to break it.
The emotional undertow
When asked, “How did it really feel?”, leaders did not write about the numbers. They wrote about themselves.
“Lonely, sad, unsure.”
“Felt like I had betrayed my team.”
“It was so sad… the most heartbreaking task to perform.”
“At that point: numb.”
A smaller group reported a kind of relief: “First it’s hard, but then you feel empowered because the hard decision is communicated.”
The issue can be examined through the lens of cognitive dissonance: leaders hold two beliefs at once: “I care about my people” and “I am taking away their income.” The bigger the gap, the stronger the emotion. In Nordic contexts, where equality and proximity to staff are strong, the gap is often wide.
The real hardest part
On paper, the hardest part of layoffs is deciding which positions to cut. In practice, the leaders we surveyed said the real strain began afterwards.
What stayed with them was not the spreadsheet work but the human aftermath: watching the faces of staff as the news landed, knowing what it meant for families, keeping up the morale among those who remained, repeating the process in subsequent rounds, and holding the line when individuals pleaded for exceptions.
Their reflections echo Western research on moral injury in leadership. The distress that arises not from doing something objectively wrong, but from acting against one’s own values under a sense of duty. Unlike middle managers who can appeal to “orders from above,” senior leaders cannot outsource the blame. They are the headquarters of decision-making.
What humane looks like in the Nordics
When asked how they handled the process as humanely as possible, a quiet consensus emerged:
Do it yourself. Many insisted on delivering the message personally. Delegating the hardest conversation of all, they said, would have felt like evasion.
Explain the reasoning. Again and again came variations of the same verb: to listen. They described walking people through the logic, answering questions, and staying available.
Offer a soft landing. Several provided extended notice, outplacement help, or generous severance.
Prepare and stay present. One leader wrote simply, “I prepared, I listened, I was present”.
Seek perspective. Some spoke of debriefing with HR, the chair, or a trusted peer.
The surprises
We also asked, “Was there anything that surprised you?” The answers were revealing:
Some expected anger, and got acceptance: “I expected more anger. But they handled it surprisingly well.”
Others were surprised that the company did not appreciate their effort, but employees did.
A few were struck by how shocking the news was: “people froze totally.”
One noted that laid-off employees were more upset with those who stayed than with the company itself. Classic survivor-syndrome dynamics.
What leaders want to tell other leaders
Our final question was the most generous: “What would you tell another leader facing layoffs right now?” Echoing similar pieces of advice, the answers offer a tiny handbook:
“Take time, this is your main job right now.”
“Communicate as much as humanly possible, be present.”
“Empathy is vital; let people leave with dignity.”
“Follow the procedure… you're not alone.”
“Try to make decisions that don’t make you lose sleep.”
And, importantly: “It’s not your fault.”
This last point may be the most useful insight for executives reading this. Western studies on job-insecurity interventions show that employees recover faster when leaders remain visible, human, and not visibly broken by the process. Leaders, therefore, have to regulate their own guilt: not to be cold, but to stay present for those who remain.
So the benefit for leaders is threefold:
Understanding: What you are feeling is not unusual.
Preparation: Expect it to take longer than planned — and to require openness, stamina, and genuine presence to keep the process humane.
Insight: Finally, please remember that your people will watch how you treat those who leave to decide whether to stay loyal to you.
In the quiet after the meeting ends, leadership is stripped to its essence: the weight of care, offered to those who leave and those who remain to rebuild.
·
5 min read
In management books, layoffs are described as an unfortunate but sometimes necessary instrument for safeguarding a company’s future.
At Listeds, we started looking into this topic because many leaders told us they felt left out of the conversation: media stories tend to focus on those who lose their jobs (as the stories should), but rarely on the moral and emotional strain on the person delivering the news.
We conducted an online survey for leaders on LinkedIn and through our newsletter. Fifty business leaders and management team members answered our question about how it actually felt to conduct layoffs. The vocabulary we were used to changed. Out went “rightsizing”, in came “lonely,” “sad,” and “numb.” Someone said, it felt “like I had betrayed my team,” while another one delivered the cruelest job description of all: [I was] “made to be the human buffer between a corporation and grieving, vulnerable employees.”
Our dataset of 50 responses offers a rare peek into that other side. The responses came mostly from Finland, and the respondents were largely CEOs and management team members in SMEs, listed firms, and growth companies.
The results reveal three points.
It’s never just business. Leaders don’t experience layoffs as a clean business decision. Even when they believed the move was necessary to save the company, they still reported feelings of shame, guilt, or sadness.
The pain extends beyond the moment. The pain did not stop at delivering the news to the one who was about to leave. Instead, the most painful part was carrying the consequences for everyone else. Many agonized over the people who stay.
Humanity helps. What got them through was trusting the process – and leaning on transparency and small, human gestures, not PowerPoint presentations polished to perfection.
This chimes with Western and Nordic research. Recent research supports that instinct. A 2025 Norwegian study by Grønstad and Bernstrøm found that when organizations downsize, short-term sickness absence rises among those who remain. The effect was partly explained by reduced organizational commitment — a reminder that how people feel after a layoff shapes their health and engagement.
Scandinavian work on “relational leadership” has likewise found that leaders in high-trust cultures experience layoffs as a kind of norm violation: after spending years building psychological safety, now they are forced to break it.
The emotional undertow
When asked, “How did it really feel?”, leaders did not write about the numbers. They wrote about themselves.
“Lonely, sad, unsure.”
“Felt like I had betrayed my team.”
“It was so sad… the most heartbreaking task to perform.”
“At that point: numb.”
A smaller group reported a kind of relief: “First it’s hard, but then you feel empowered because the hard decision is communicated.”
The issue can be examined through the lens of cognitive dissonance: leaders hold two beliefs at once: “I care about my people” and “I am taking away their income.” The bigger the gap, the stronger the emotion. In Nordic contexts, where equality and proximity to staff are strong, the gap is often wide.
The real hardest part
On paper, the hardest part of layoffs is deciding which positions to cut. In practice, the leaders we surveyed said the real strain began afterwards.
What stayed with them was not the spreadsheet work but the human aftermath: watching the faces of staff as the news landed, knowing what it meant for families, keeping up the morale among those who remained, repeating the process in subsequent rounds, and holding the line when individuals pleaded for exceptions.
Their reflections echo Western research on moral injury in leadership. The distress that arises not from doing something objectively wrong, but from acting against one’s own values under a sense of duty. Unlike middle managers who can appeal to “orders from above,” senior leaders cannot outsource the blame. They are the headquarters of decision-making.
What humane looks like in the Nordics
When asked how they handled the process as humanely as possible, a quiet consensus emerged:
Do it yourself. Many insisted on delivering the message personally. Delegating the hardest conversation of all, they said, would have felt like evasion.
Explain the reasoning. Again and again came variations of the same verb: to listen. They described walking people through the logic, answering questions, and staying available.
Offer a soft landing. Several provided extended notice, outplacement help, or generous severance.
Prepare and stay present. One leader wrote simply, “I prepared, I listened, I was present”.
Seek perspective. Some spoke of debriefing with HR, the chair, or a trusted peer.
The surprises
We also asked, “Was there anything that surprised you?” The answers were revealing:
Some expected anger, and got acceptance: “I expected more anger. But they handled it surprisingly well.”
Others were surprised that the company did not appreciate their effort, but employees did.
A few were struck by how shocking the news was: “people froze totally.”
One noted that laid-off employees were more upset with those who stayed than with the company itself. Classic survivor-syndrome dynamics.
What leaders want to tell other leaders
Our final question was the most generous: “What would you tell another leader facing layoffs right now?” Echoing similar pieces of advice, the answers offer a tiny handbook:
“Take time, this is your main job right now.”
“Communicate as much as humanly possible, be present.”
“Empathy is vital; let people leave with dignity.”
“Follow the procedure… you're not alone.”
“Try to make decisions that don’t make you lose sleep.”
And, importantly: “It’s not your fault.”
This last point may be the most useful insight for executives reading this. Western studies on job-insecurity interventions show that employees recover faster when leaders remain visible, human, and not visibly broken by the process. Leaders, therefore, have to regulate their own guilt: not to be cold, but to stay present for those who remain.
So the benefit for leaders is threefold:
Understanding: What you are feeling is not unusual.
Preparation: Expect it to take longer than planned — and to require openness, stamina, and genuine presence to keep the process humane.
Insight: Finally, please remember that your people will watch how you treat those who leave to decide whether to stay loyal to you.
In the quiet after the meeting ends, leadership is stripped to its essence: the weight of care, offered to those who leave and those who remain to rebuild.
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